


It's not the first time

by Anonymous



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: F/F, Female Characters, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:28:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21963604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: My heart is beating faster as I approach the beautiful glass door, and my hands are trembling when I push the button. I don’t know why.It’s not the first time I push this button.It’s not the first time I am about to walk through these doors and up these stairs.It’s not the first time I’m inside this flat.It’s not the first time I will see her.It’s not the first time for anything I am about to do.It’s part of who I am, yet I am still the nervous shell I think I never was.
Relationships: Zoë Loockx/Noor Bauwens
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14
Collections: Anonymous





	It's not the first time

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I publish in the wtfock fandom, and due to its... unconventional pairing I have chosen to do it as anonymous to avoid sending notifications to what I expect to be mostly readers of Evak fanfics. I don't really expect most of them to be interested in this pairing, well, maybe nobody are interested in this fic you never asked for, but it still wanted to be written so I did it.

My heart is beating faster as I approach the beautiful glass door, and my hands are trembling when I push the button. I don’t know why.  
It’s not the first time I push this button.  
It’s not the first time I am about to walk through these doors and up these stairs.  
It’s not the first time I’m inside this flat.  
It’s not the first time I will see her.  
It’s not the first time for anything I am about to do.  
It’s part of who I am, yet I am still the nervous shell I think I never was.

“Ja?” It’s a male voice, it must be Milan.  
“Is Zoë there?”  
“Ja.” The buzzing sound cuts through the drumming beats in my ears and I pull the door towards me.

She looks surprised at me through the half open door. “Hi?”  
“Hello.” I stop outside the door.  
She frowns at me. “Robbe is not here,” she says, her voice is hesitant. “Neither is Sander.”  
I try to smile confidently at her, even though my stomach is filled with knife sharp butterfly wings threatening to cut through me at any moment. “No, I am not here to see them. I….” My voice is too shaky and I straighten up. “I wanted to see you.”

“Oh.” She looks surprised at me. It looks like her face brightens up, and she takes a step to the side. “Come in then.”

In the hallway she stops again, looking at me again. 

I start to take off my leather jacket, trying not to fumble too much. I straighten up and try to tell myself that I am confident and sexy, feeling a tingle between my legs when her eyes glance briefly up and down my body.  
“Eh, let me take you jacket,” she says quickly, reaching for the collar and just brushing her fingers along the exposed skin at the hem of my shirt. It feels like a burn on my skin, the feeling still there as she hangs my jacket. 

I look around in the hallway. It’s tidy, shoes standing in neat rows along the walls and coats and jackets hung on hooks and hangers. It’s not the chaos it was here last time I was here, on Friday, when people were stumbling out just before midnight, on their way to some club, Milan heading first and Robbe and Sander sneaking off to Robbe’s room as we left. 

They are hot, I have seen them both, they are fit and sexy as fuck. I can just imagine Sander’s lips on Robbe and his eyes when looking up at him when Robbe is coming into his mouth, Robbe shooting inside him while holding on to the sheets. And then Sander fucking Robbe, sliding a finger into him, then two, I know how the pressure feels, first it’s uncomfortable and I can envision Robbe’s anxiety first, how his body is stiff and nervous, then relaxing as Sander strokes him slowly. The slightly weird feeling the first time someone else puts something into you, but then it’s suddenly comfortable and you want more, the slicked up dick sliding into you, pushing inside, waiting until you are ready, and then finally pounding into you again and again while he is coming inside you and you wonder how this will feel without a condom, if you will leak or if you can keep it inside, and then you feel it for the rest of your day, feeling much more vulnerable and marked than from a vaginal intercourse.

My thoughts are running away again. I draw my breath and look at Zoë in front of me. She looks questioning at me. “What?” I ask, feeling my face blush.  
“I asked if you wanted something? Tea, coffee, beer, wine?”  
I smile at her. “Tea, maybe?”  
“Sure.” She points me to the living room while she walks into the kitchen. They still have the Christmas tree up. It’s bright and festive in the corner of the room. I sit down at the soft couch, the pillows neatly puffed and a folded blanket at the end.

“Here.” Zoë comes back with a tray with two cups of tea and a plate with decorated biscuits.  
“Thank you.” I reach for one of the cups, suddenly I need to hold on to something.

The sofa dips as she sits down at the other end of it. 

There is an awkward silence between us. She is sitting a metre from me and I suddenly don’t know what to say.

“So. How was your Christmas?” I ask.

A shadow falls across her face. “It was ok,” she says, looking away.  
I look at her, biting my lip while thinking about what the next question should be. “Were you here?” I ask, looking around in the room that suddenly looks so dull compared to my parents’ holiday decorated home.  
She nods. “Yes.”  
“With Robbe?”  
“No, he went to his mother. But Milan was here.” She takes a sip from her cup.  
“You were not with Senne?” I ask, even though I know the answer, or at least I hope I still know it.  
“No… We… I broke up,” she says while swallowing.  
I nod, hoping I manage to hide my joy. “I am sorry.”  
“No, it’s ok. It was me… I... “ She straightens up and looks me in the eye. “I wanted to live on my own. Finding myself.” Her dark eyes are piercing me and her red lips suddenly looks bigger.

I stretch my arm towards her shoulder and put my hand on it, trying to comfort her, or touch her, who am I fooling here. She looks at my hand, then at me, her face is serious before she breathes in and leans slightly towards me. She smiles at me and I move closer to her.

Suddenly we are sitting so close that I can feel the warmth from her thigh against my knee. My hand is still at her shoulder. I let it slide slowly across her back, her lips are suddenly so close to mine, her hip is moving under my fingers. Her breath is blowing softly against my skin, it’s sweet, smells of tea and gingerbread and apple. 

I lean towards her, my lips are touching hers, they are soft and warm against mine as I press kisses against them and she is kissing me back. She moves her arm around me and pulls me down over her. I kneel between her legs and follows her mouth. She has spread her lips and I let the tip of my tongue lick them, sliding into the opening between them and tasting them on the way. I let out a moan when I think of my tongue tasting other lips, of her lips against mine, my hips automatically grind against her.

She chuckles under me, her soft body shakes and her arms are pulled closer around me.  
Her body feels pliant under me. I continue to kiss her, taste her mouth, she is tasting me too, her small tongue sliding between my lips. My hands are moving across her body, feeling her hips and belly and chest, before sliding down along the hem of her jeans, then following the outer seam down to rest on her knee. Her leg is moving a bit outwards, and my fingers move to the inside of her thigh, my stomach is tickling as I move them upwards again, towards the heat where her thighs meet. She is breathing heavier and faster, her movements are more hectic.

Suddenly she breaks the kiss. “We should, we should…” Her neck is flushed and her eyes darker than ever.  
I startle as I sit up, suddenly uncertain. “Do you…”  
“No, no.” She grabs my arm. “Come. Let’s go to my room,” she says, leading me to her room at the end of the narrow hallway. She shuts and locks the door as soon as we’re inside. “Milan is at home,” she explains. “He is calling his boyfriend, but he’s probably soon done. Although he probably wants a shower afterwards,” she chuckles.

We are standing next to each other. We are similar and opposite. Her light colours, light blue jeans, the cream white sweater, her blonde hair. I wonder if she is equally blonde elsewhere of it it’s darker, like her eyebrows. Her lips are the same colour as mine, but her colours make it different. I get the dramatic effect with my dark colours, my black outfit, my red tights are my only colour.

I chose this shirt because I know it fits snugly, yet is easy to take off. It’s black and slim, showing my shapes and the contours of the laced underwear I put on this morning. I straightened the slick fabric along my hips while trying to imagine how it would feel if she did the same, before pulling on a knee long skirt and red tights.

She grabs the lower hem of my shirt and pulls if over my head. I pull in my stomach and push my chest slightly out. My breasts are hidden behind a black laced bra, the round nipples raising through the thin fabric. I quickly pull down my skirts and tights myself, leaving them in a crumbled pile on the floor before putting my hands back on her hips.

I take off her sweater and the thin top she has under it. Her breasts are bare, small, smooth, well-shaped, I already know they will fit perfectly in the palm of my hands, the nipples sliding between the root of my fingers, then being rolled between my fingertips. I imagine how they will raise when I lick them, the texture of them on my lips, the tip of my tongue tasting them, my lips closing at them before sucking them, the look on her face when I bite her lightly, how she will beg me to bite harder, to stop biting, leaning back in pleasure, pushing herself towards me…

I kiss her again, a deep kiss, pulling her in, her breasts are gliding against mine, our nipples meet. I put my hand on her buttock, it’s round and I press my fingers to the dip towards the thigh, feeling her contract her muscles while pushing against me. I fumble with her jeans, unbuttoning it, forgetting to pull down the zipper before trying to pull down the tight pants. She laughs and helps me, letting me do the work after she has done the zipper. She kicks them off as soon as they slide past her knees. 

For a moment I just look at her.

Her underwear is a light creamy pink colour, silky fabric, no laces, but almost see-through. I swallow as I see the visibly wet spot in front of them, where her outer lips meet, hiding the tip of her clit, dark hair is being pushed against the thin fabric. 

Her nipples are stiff and the dark circle around them have small bumps in the cool room. The breasts are firm with the nipples pointing forward. I can hardly wait to shape my hands around them, I wonder what they feel like, if her skin will feel like the surface of apricots under my fingers. 

The thing I like so much about girls are their soft bodies, so different from boys. No matter how fit they are, they still feel different, and the smells are like my own, the same taste as my own when I suck my fingers afterwards, their vulva against my mouth feels familiar, like I have felt my own against my fingertips.

The tingling in my crotch increases and I can’t resist her anymore. I lean forward and pushes her towards her bed. She lands on her back, spreading her legs and pulling her knees up as she lie down. I start kissing her again, kissing a trail from her lips across her chin and down her neck, licking and tasting her salty skin, then I reach her tits. I cup them, they feel like I expected, soft and firm at the same time. My fingers slide across the skin and gather at the areola, touching the nipple with my finger tips. She is moaning under me, a silent moan with closed eyes, her neck stretched backwards. It is flushed and red, I can see how turned on she is. Her hands are clutching the sheets, and she begs me to kiss her nipple.

I giggle, I don’t want to kiss it yet, or of course I want to, but I’d rather see her beg a bit more, so I pinch her right nipple slightly, shaping it into a hard tip, then circling my fingertips across her skin, scratching it with my red nails, they are short and rounded, perfect for teasing while still perfect for fingering her.

At the thought of that I can’t stop myself from bending down towards her left breast. Her nipple fits perfectly between my lips, and my tongue cups it like my fingers just did. I lick back and forth, feeling the hardness under the tip while my fingers are still massaging the other breast.

Her hand is suddenly around mine. She moves it down, “please, touch me, I can’t wait anymore”, her voice is raspy and she is breathing fast. Her short, curly hair is surprisingly soft against my fingers. I can feel her spread her legs and pushing her hips up when I move myself off her so I lie perpendicular against her.

She is soft and wet. My fingers slides easily between her lips, it’s this slick wetness that no other part of the body has, the velvety feeling, pulling me between the lust to push my fingers inside her and to slide them further back.

I let go of her nipple with a pop, my brain can’t coordinate both my hand on her pussy and my mouth on her nipple anymore. I continue to lick my trail along her body, the scent of her hitting my nostrils and then my crotch, her pubes tickling first the tip of my nose, then my lips and my tongue.

The taste of her is heavy in my mouth. It’s the same taste as I have tasted before, yet it’s her taste, the taste of her, unique and different. The taste of musk and salt are dominant, with some bitter and sweet, and a hint of vanilla, like a candy. 

She groans again as my tongue brushes against her clit, a low moan like a wave through her body. I lick along her vulva, towards her vagina, circling her opening before letting my tongue slide into her. The angle is tricky, I love to see her from this view and she can hold on to me and clutch my buttocks, as she does now, but I slide down and kneels on the floor instead. My head is in perfect height to dip in between her legs and lick her again, back and forth at the beginning of her vagina while gliding my thumbs along the slicky lips while my other fingertips touch the inside of her thighs lightly. 

I taste her deeper, my nose sinks into her tissue while my tongue goes as far into her as it can, fitting perfectly into her. She pushes against me, her hands are in my hair now. I can only imagine her light skin against my dark hair, wishing I had a camera here, I want to draw this scene later, draw her naked body against mine, my head hidden between her legs, remembering this moment of lust and heat, the moment I know is just minutes from her coming against my face. Still I can only guess how her orgasm will rip through her, how it will begin and end, increase and fade, until she lies on her bed with my head against her stomach, before she rebuilds her strength and licks me to climax.

Feeling the orgasm around my finger is a special feeling. I move my mouth further up and dip my fingers into her, drowning them in wetness while tasting around her bud. It’s erect and hard, I know it is spread along her vulva and inside her vagina, it is erect with blood, making the nerve endings sensitive and receptive of my stimuli. 

I lick back and forth while feeling her muscles tension under me, then letting my fingers slide further back, ready to move them again if the reacts to my gentle push against her opening. But she moans again, a high-pitched sound while she moves towards me, and I push my middle finger into her, the wet slickness makes it glide easily inside he, she is tight, but it’s either not the first time she does this, or it’s something she has dreamed about for a while so she is totally ready for it. 

I take a break at the first knuckle to let her get used to it, but she wants more, and while it slides in I let my thumb massage her vagina opening, and I can feel the waves start ripping through her as I continue licking her, I continue massaging her, I continue fucking her tight arse with my finger, I continue holding her while she shakes and buckles under me, the groans are louder and deeper, until she stills pushing against my face while the climax reaches the top.

She lies still afterwards, limp and soft, and I crawl up into bed with her, lying down with my arm across her chest before kissing her softly on her cheek. She turns her head towards me and meets my lips, she is warm and wet and soft against me. Her eyes smile at me. “Wow. Thanks for visiting,” she giggles, stroking her fingers over my upper arm.

She looks at me. “You are still dressed,” she says, looking slightly surprised between me and her naked body. I smile at her. “What do you want to do with that?” I ask her, half jokingly, unsure if she is up to more, or if she’d rather rest her body.

She kisses me again, deeper this time. “You taste lovely,” she mutters, planting small pecks on my face while sniffing the whiff of herself. 

Her hands are eager as they roam my body, arms, back, chest, buttocks, back of my thighs, sliding to their front, along my hips, my belly, but all the time avoiding the parts I want her to touch. She slides her hands behind my back and unclasps my bra before pulling it over my arms and throwing it on the floor. My nipples are erect and I brush them against her, hoping to feel her fingers around them like mine were a while ago. But she laughs at my eagerness and continues to stroke my loins instead, up and down in a steady rhythm, as if she is massaging my nipple with her thumb, or pushing her fingers inside me. I can’t stop myself from pushing against her, in a determined, desperate movement to get more of her to more of my sensitive parts. I have put my leg across her thigh and grind my groin against her hip, my clitoris is brushing against her and I can come within minutes if she will let me.

But she doesn’t. She rolls me over and pulls my hands above my hand before grabbing the wrists with her right hand and holding me against the mattress. My lips part and I can only look at her, in awe, in joy, in lust, in an almost desperate need for her.

Her eyes are piercing me, looking at my face, down my body, at my firm tits, my stretched belly, my black underwear, slick wet from the liquids leaking from me. I bend my left knee out and upwards, the right one is next to her, I brush it slightly against her warm skin. She lifts her eyebrow and smile again, before she suddenly puts her hand against my pussy. The wet fabric clings to my clit and I give out a sharp moan before she hushes me. “Be quiet.” 

The root of her palm continues to push in circles against my clit while she moves her fingers in a steady rhythm as if she is playing the piano across my wet lips. I push against her while also pulling away. Her demand for silence is almost unbearable, there is a moan in my chest wanting to get out, but I keep shut because she told me to.

“We should get rid of this, too,” she says, moving her hand to the laced hem and pulling them down. She looks approvingly at the liquids inside them before lifting them to her nose, sniffing the scent of them with closed eyes. Then she looks at me again. “They are wet,” she says, holding them against my face forcing me to taste my own smells.

They have the musky sweetness I have tasted from my fingers numerous times, when I lick them after masturbating. The smells that linger when I have pushed the pointy and middle fingers inside me while my ring finger is resting along my crack and my thumb has been drawing circles around my bud. The smells I make when I think about someone licking or fucking me, or when I have fantasized about others, forbidden fantasies about people I know, couples, threesomes, sexy individuals, when I feel like a voyeur even though I have only imagined doing it.

“If I had a dick,” she says, “I would have fucked you now. Pounded my hard dick into you, in and out, in a steady rhythm, coming again before you did, then licking you into oblivion.” 

She smiles softly at me before moving a knee between my thighs and sliding down my legs. 

“Now I will just do the oblivion part,” she giggles, before blowing hot air at my pubes and my wet lips, then pointing her tongue and licking me hard. I can’t stop my moan, and she abruptly sits up, looking at me. “What did I say about sounds?” she says with a disapproving frown.

I bite my lower lip and close my eyes. The sight of her naked body between my knees is almost too much. Her chest is flushed and I want to massage her nipples again, the sounds she made are still resonating in my mind. 

She puts her face back at me again, and this time I concentrate all my energy at being quiet, while at the same time pushing in a steady rhythm against her. I am not able to lie still. If she demands that from me as well I am not sure what to do. But she continues to lick me, broad hard strokes. Her elbows are keeping my thighs wide while she is moving one hand in light movements on the inside of my thigh. 

The other is stroking my wet skin, along the vulva, lips, perineum, these bodily parts that give me so much pleasure. Then she moves a hand and presses it against my vaginal opening, three fingers pushing in and out, and I realize she is no longer holding my arms tight above my head, so I put my hand across my mouth, ready to bite into it if I can no longer hold my moan. 

Suddenly she changes the rhythm of her tongue to a faster pace, quick movements back and forth over the end of my clitoris, the same pace I use myself when I use my vibrator on it, the small flat one, like a finger brushing in double movements against myself.

It brings me over the edge, and starts an avalanche I couldn’t stop if I wanted to, but why would I want to stop this, these waves, the rips through my body, shaking, trembling, uncontrollable movements, going on for ever and ever, until I lie here, like a boneless mess, not able to move a finger, not even able to stutter the ‘thank you’ that echoes in my head.

I barely feel her warm body lying down next to me in the grey darkness in the room, getting me properly inside the frame of the bed, before pulling the blankets over us and resting her arm across my chest and whispering a warm whiff of air with her “Good night, Noor” against my earlobe.

**Author's Note:**

> So, Noor and Zoë? Reboud, curiosity, lust or love, what do you think?
> 
> By the way, those who wants to read my other works are welcome over at pagnilagni's fics. Look out for mostly Norwegian stuff, but also some works in English as well as some parallell universes meeting and developing.


End file.
